Morbid Angels
by Trixie3
Summary: What occurs when war turns angels morbid... DARK


Title: Morbid Angels   
Author: Trixie  
Email: goldynangyl@yahoo.com

Status: Finished  
Archive: Sure, but please tell me first! ^_^ I'd like to know where my ficcies are going.   
Rating: Pg-15

Pairings: None  
Warnings: DARK DARK DARK piece. Blood... just a demented little thing. ^_~ If you are offended with anything of the nature, please don't read!!   
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters. I am making no money off of this at all, it is only for pleasure purposes.   
Author's Notes:  
  
"Blah" dialogue  
BLAH really loud words  
~ scene change

The fiery flames danced in a seductive rhythm, gleefully licking the logs burning at each sated touch.  Five pairs of eyes gleaming with psychotic determination silently gazed at the enchanting tendrils of fire, never looking away.  

They were gathered here tonight, under the battered and merciless heavens and penetrating stars, to give confession of their sins.  Here, together, they would relieve each other of their pain, of their regrets, and of their sorrows.   Here they would make the final step towards salvation… by presenting a sacrifice.  

The sacrifice was the one with the most blood on his hands; the one who was the most wretched of them all.  

But who?  Who could possibly be worse than the next killer beside him?  Who could possibly have more innocent blood soaked in his soul than any other present?  Who, in question, would be the sacrifice?

Each one of them, under the mask of crafted integrity, craved to be the sacrifice, wished – deserved to die a horrible death to appease the gods, to balance the imbalance.  

But only the most corrupt could go, could release himself of the ever-present horror and suffer complete and cherished damnation.

Deceit and blood were thick in the air, seeming to entice the fire to blaze anew.  How was the sacrificed one to be chosen?  How could they decide?

Only one way.

            Total massacre.

            Ally pitted against ally.  Friend against friend.  Enemy against enemy.  The last of the five to die will be the victor, the sacrifice.  He will carry out the sacrifice alone, and tell the tale to the dead corpses of why his blood was so stained, what he had done to turn so cold, so able to murder his fellow comrades so readily.  

            He will be the sacrifice.

            So, the five boys – morbid angels – lifted their savage gazes and nodded their 'farewells' and 'good-lucks', each welcoming the coming event of doom.  No tears were shed, and no smiles were flashed, just grim acceptance.  

            So with the last lingering glance long faded, the five boys turned from the dying fire and headed down their own separate paths, preparing for this night of uncanny horror.

**~**

            Heero stood like a stone statue deep within the sullen forest; dead cobalt eyes locked unwavering on the flickering fire of the now unoccupied campsite.  He instinctively felt four other pairs of eyes, somewhere in the welcoming darkness, watching just as vigilantly for the last flame to choke and wither away, commencing the start of the game.  

Heero unconsciously thumbed the cool steel exterior of his gun with deadly assurance as a small, malicious grin appearing on his shadowed face.  Dark, unruly locks fell about his vacant face, and falling into his eyes as a blistering determinacy flashed across them.   He would be the victor; he would be the sacrifice.  He had to be.

A wail ripped through the air, and it managed to smother the last struggling flame, casting a darker gloom to the night.

"Omae o korosu… minna." 

**~**

Duo danced silently among the shadows, a humorless grin full of wicked promise gracing his darkened features as he glanced indifferently at the pale fire choking to death.  Violent, amethyst orbs shimmered evilly as he impatiently waited for the fire to wither and the game to begin.  He could feel the fear and lust for death smothering him, and he reveled in it.  

Brandishing a simple, yet spiteful scythe attached to an intricately carved metal staff that ended in a sharp, unforgiving point, Duo chuckled ominously, for he knew that he would be the winner of this little game.   He would dance in their blood tonight.

A wild cackle, colored with dangerous lunacy, slashed through the air as the last wilting tendril of fire fell.

"Shinigami is out to play…"

~

            Trowa casually leaned against a large oak tree, his sweep of russet bangs falling sharply over glass emerald jewels, as they surveyed the area with a predator's lethal skill.  Coldness wrapped itself around Trowa's hardened features as he lounged calmly, watching intently as the flame reached out for mercy.  He could smell the blood ready to be spilt.

            Languidly casting his eyes upon the gleaming trio of knives in his right hand, Trowa carefully planned out his tedious hunt.  He wanted to toy with his prey first, striking swiftly when they were in the heat of battle, gashing the vulnerable vein in the neck.  He would win this hunt, and relish in his victory.

            A belying gentle wind snaked its way around the abandoned sparks of flame and then cruelly squeezed the life away, leaving a trail of lonely smoke.

            "Nanashi has returned…"

~

            Quatre lay innocently among the emaciated flowers of winter, blowing unenthusiastically at the few strands of golden silk that fell about his pale skin.  Aquamarine pools of the deepest evil winked about with cool, calculating precision, shimmering with something akin to savage overexcitement, as they observed the fire glitter in its dying moments.

            Brushing long fingers over several, dainty, marble chess pieces, Quatre smiled darkly as he pricked his middle finger along one of the wickedly sharpened edges.  Absently sucking the small trickle of blood that came forth, Quatre eyed the long, whip of razor fine violin strings that held the little small spiky figures; a small tune of conquest composed itself in his mind.     

            The hummed dirge floated ever so sweetly through the dank air, stifling the last note of fire, leaving the chessboard of this simple game clear.

            "Checkmate…" 

~

            Wufei crouched warily among the high, dry grass, his posture taut and ready, like that of a ravenous dragon.  Expressionless ebony shards scrutinized the motionless surroundings of death methodically, choosing each place of death exactly and thoroughly.   Tainted moonlight flickered across slanted orbs of darkest night and reflected the proud arrogance that glazed those eyes as they offhandedly dismissed the fading wisps of eerie flame.

            Shifting the weight of his gleaming katana from one hand to the other, a feral scowl etched itself upon Wufei's bronze face.  The smooth, icy blade, used so many times before, swung about easily from expert hands, slicing the thick air with treacherous accuracy.  A sudden stillness of patient composure flooded through Wufei's center, as the essence of spoiled integrity whispered sweet triumph.

            Demented gods of righteousness surrounded the fleeting flame and damned it to hell, leaving a trail of revenge.

            "Justice will be served…"

~

            For a minute of complete silence, nothing moved or breathed; making the scene of future horror seem like a tranquil, child's playground.  

            Playground of the dead.

            Without warning or given pretense, all five contenders dashed like manic demons from their hiding places and rushed out into the open, eager to start this bloodbath.

            Waiting was no longer an option.

            Cries and roars of pure savagery erupted from the throats of the five pilots as they descended upon each other like raving hyenas upon their prey.  

            The game had begun.

            Crimson tears spilled forth as blade and bullet met perfect skin, tearing the warm flesh with agonizing electricity.  Metal grated on bone and sliced through yielding meat as scarlet cavities tunneled their way through anything they encountered.  

               Ruby life rushed carelessly through the boiling atmosphere, splattering against stained cloth and glistening flesh as it burned into soulless eyes and stained the ground beneath.  

            Identical knives slashed consecutively into a column of bronze skin as an armada of deranged bullets passed through a black-clad chest.  A gleaming blade ripped through pink cloth and impaled a beating heart as a wicked curve of metal hacked lodged itself into a slim neck, past jade material.   And thorn-like marble shredded a perfect face as the attached cords sliced through pulsing veins.  

            Silence.

            And then the victor stood up…

            An eerie laughter filled the empty chasm of lifeless limbs and glassy eyes as the sickening sound of dripping blood echoed about the void.  

            Who was the victor?  

            Who?

            Staggering slightly on torn and broken legs, the victor took a meaningful look about the scene of utter carnage, drinking in the familiar faces covered in crimson streams and a sinful smirk graced the battered features.  Sprawled about like broken dolls, dismembered and mutilated in warm, sticky cherry juice; his comrades of death kneeled awkwardly before him, gracing his ruthless triumph.

            Taking his own grand bow, the victor decided to collect his winnings.  

            Bending over each corpse as a mother bends over a child, the winner gathered the souls of those below him by plucking out their hearts.

            Gently cradling the bright ruby mass of sticky pulps, he pressed them against his face, shuddering in pleasure as the sensation of slick scarlet flesh oozed along his wounds.  He even took the liberty to squeeze the sensual blood into his mouth, hungrily swallowing the crimson waterfall that burned down his throat and revitalized his body. 

            One should never die hungry…

            Laughter erupted from the gashed neck as the champion stumbled away, his feet splashing about in the puddles of cooling blood, leaving a gruesome trail of ruby footprints along the stained ground.

            Time for the sacrifice.

~

            Rekindling the long dead fire that had once burned so bright before five pairs of eyes, the figure stared at the accusing flames, a look of mad glee flashing across the empty eyes.  He had created a great blaze, the angry orange inferno lighting the starless sky. 

            He had dragged the bodies to the fire, propping them up into sitting positions, so that they could witness the sacrifice fully.  

            Clapping cheerfully when all the preparations were finished, the figure walked into the hungry flames, and sat down quietly in the middle of the unwavering heat.  Opening his mouth and inhaling the fiery air, the figure began to scream out his confession as the fire wrapped around him, licking away his flesh.

            "I am the damned one! The prisoner among life! I am the one who brings war among the peace! I am the one who slaughters enemies and friends and weeps no tears, but rather dances in their blood!  I am eternal and ever present among the hearts of those like me!  I kill without thought and I kill without preference – any death will do as long as it quenches this thirst within my excuse for a soul!  Hear me you pitiful opponents!  Hear my words over your shameful defeat!  You were never worthy of my blood!  Never worthy of my darkness! Watch me burn for my sins!! Watch me die for my trespasses!!  But mark my words: I will be born again!!  For I am HATE!"

            And with that, the victor – the evilness of man – disappeared in a shattering shriek, leaving the five carcasses to gaze forever at what had consumed them and lead them to their brutal end…

            Beware the hate.    

~Owari~


End file.
